Almost a Pre-K Teacher

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to teach preschool age kids? How about four-year-olds who's first language is Spanish? Oh, these kids understand a little English now, but sometimes I feel like they just don't want to pay attention.

Two weeks ago I was asked to fill in for the regular pre-k teacher and teach for a full morning. My first reaction was to throw a temper tantrum. With my semester's experience of teaching these kids, I know how to throw a good one. But I decided to handle it like a man and see what I could learn.

Big surprise, all of the kids, not just the ones that who excel (a word used loosely here) in English, knew their classes' daily routine. Routines are saviors for little kids. Early in my PE class I installed a routine. The pre-kers follow me out to the court. We walk on the wooden sandbox to work on balance, then hop around a set of stones that lead to the court, and finally we race to the center of the basketball court. At least that is the plan. If you can imagine the next part of the routine is even more chaotic. I try to lead them in stretches but they run around. Typically one of the little guys asks me if he can take off his jacket. This causes a chain reaction that ends in all the kids running-amuck, jacketless. On good days we follow our stretches with a bunch of different fun movements, like crawling like a bear, walking like a crab, and skipping. Then we try to play a game. My routine doesn't always work that well, but I had hope their class routine would lead to an easy morning for me.

But, back to my adventure subbing their class. According to the child in charge of moving the Weather Clip it was a sunny day. As soon as he picked up the card with a radiantly smiling sun on it, the entire class shouted "SUNNY!" I think they were supposed to wait for me to ask what type of weather we were having. We didn't make it that far, but we almost did. The rest of the day was filled with more almosts. We made it to chapel but I almost lost a kid. He decided to go to the bathroom for ten minutes. We made it to art and I almost didn't pick them back up. Just kidding. They ate all their food during snack time and almost listened to me while I read them a story. Recess was fun, they almost emptied the sandbox. And finally during free time the boys almost destroyed the classroom. All of these almosts caused us to be late for their parents to pick them up. Yet, without their routines I think I would've almost died.

Teaching similingual kids can be fun because they kind of say really cute things. They have huge imaginations and they smile a lot. But I was exhausted by the end of the day. My friends kept asking if I was sick. It's hard when you teach a class of kids who are all off in their own worlds most of the time. But, hey, they're just little kids and I don't think they should have to grow up too fast. I just hope I don't have to sub for them again. That was a lot of work.

Merry Christmas!!

This was Addi's first Christmas and she decided to sit on my lap for most of it. I couldn't

have asked for anything more precious for Christmas. I hope everyone had a great Christmas

and has a great start to the new year. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!!

A Tikal Thanksgiving

Bruce Cockburn, one of my favorite musicians, wrote a song about Night Trains, which was probably inspired by a trip he took. I wanted to quote the song, but it has nothing to do with Mayans or Thanksgiving, but I digress.

Anyway, I took trip on a Night Bus to Tikal, a Mayan ruin, for Thanksgiving. I have no plans of writing a song about it, but I do have to say one thing, one of the passengers sitting in front of me had an old boom-box cd player and was blasting, if blasting is the correct word, old 80's soft rock. After that I had the song " Eclipse of the Heart" stuck in my head for most of the day.

Strangely the horrible Bonnie Tyler song and not Bruce Cockburn's song fit my trip, because the Mayan's were known to follow the lunar calendar. Whenever there was an eclipse, they ripped the hearts out of their enemies in sacrifice to their gods. In fact, most of the gigantic temples in Tikal were built in correlation with the sun or moon.

As I walked around the ancient buildings, I kept wondering what it would be like to walk around New York a thousand years after it had been deserted. I saw in the 2009 September issue of National Geographic what New York looked like when Henry Hudson discovered it 4oo years ago. Check this issue out, because the urban takeover on the island of Manhattan is very similar to the jungle takeover in Tikal, except in the opposite direction.

Manhattan, once a forest, now is a gigantic city and Tikal, once a sprawling Mayan metropolis, now is a gigantic jungle. During Tikal's peak, it was the epicenter for much of the Mayan world. Now it's a national park in the middle of the jungle. So, as you look at the pictures below try to envision Tikal as it once was, a thriving city. The temples were dyed red to symbolize life. The grounds were stone. It was immaculate. It was alive.

Yet, for the city to continue to live the Mayan's believed that someone had to die. It was their circle of life. Blood was sacred, life giving, and so at one time blood spilled down the temples, as the priests ripped out the hearts of their unfortunate human sacrifices. Mayans believed that when blood was spilled in sacrifice to the gods life was renewed. Mysteriously something, maybe famine, war, or overpopulation, ripped the heart out of the Mayan culture leaving it dead. But because of the death of the Mayan culture, many Guatemalan's make a living off of the national park. The Mayans understood the connection between life and death. Unfortunately they didn't know about Christ, the man who broke the cycle and quenched the need for sacrifices. Yet, for me, walking around their sacrificial monuments pointed me to Christ, because they reminded me of the world's need for a savior.

5 steps to running the Xela Half Marathon

Step one: start off slow. Independencia, the main street in and out of Xela, was packed with runners bobbing up and down. Everyone trying to warm up their legs. Knowing that any last minute help would probably speed them onto the finish line. Up at the front of the line were the Kenyans, invited so they could win the race, and who could win the race with their legs tied. Fast is in their blood. The Kenyans were already starting their fourth kelimoter when I crossed my first. I was told by a very wise man to let everyone pass you because it's a long race. So, I started off slow.

Step two: find a running partner. A couple of my coworkers were runnig the race as well. Unfortunately for them they had not trained, so I kew they would not be good partners. They also started off very fast. The first leg of the race seemed flat, so almost everyone raced ahead. By the 7th kilometer I had caught and passed most of the people who'd raced ahead and I had a guy following my pace. I don't think it's possible to run 13 miles with out a partner. Your partner really helps push you on. Several of my patners fell behind, especialy on the bigger hills. But in some way or another I always had somoene running with me, helping me push on. My favorite partners were my students Danielle, Julio, and Melvin. Danielle and Julio were in the crowd and decided to run with me for a litte while and Melvin finished the race with me. When Danielle and Julio joined me, I was at a point where I wanted to slow down, but they reminded me that I am a PE teacher and so I must be faster. It was great.

Step three: remember your training. I spent over two months training for the race, not including last year's training. I had a couple of hickups. My shoes were stolen and I was sick a time or two, but overall my training went smoothly. And so when I was running up the big hills, not fast mind you, I knew I had run up bigger hills. And step by step I drew closer to the finish line. My training gave me the confidence to run fast when I was going down hill and the knowledge to conserve my energy by runnnig slower on the up hills. The best part was knowing I had run most of the harder sections during my training, so I knew I could do it. There's nothing like facing a challenge and knowing you have the skills to beat it. I don't think I could have finished without having trained for the race.

Step four: finish strong. Well, I tried this and it kind of backfired. I sprinted the last kilometer. I'm sure I looked good and strong while I was running, but I threw up afterwords. But as I was rounding the final bend I figured why not run as fast as I could, I mean I wouldn't be running again for a couple of weeks. Again without any training I couldn't have done this, but sometimes migraines just happen. Even though I was sick for four days after the race, I am glad I finished strong. I would rather give something my all and get hurt or sick than try something half heartedly. I finished the race and now I know that if I put my mind to something I can achieve my goal.

Step five: rest and repeat. I plan on running the Coban half marathon in May and so I'll probably follow all four of the steps I've mentioned above. I hope when I run in Coban I don't have to deal with a few of the things I have dealt with for the last two half marathons I've trained for. Hopefully swine flu doesn't rear it's ugly head and cancel the race again and most of all I hope no one steals my running shoes again. I would like a smooth training experience and a smooth race. But I guess I just need to remember that like life, running isn't always easy and the hard times will just make me stronger.

Friendships

Xela seems to be a smelting fire for life and friendships. During the year I've been in Xela, God has been forging me into the man he first designed, minus my imperfections, by helping me make new friendships and strengthening old ones. Yet, I know God isn't done casting me into the mold he has designed for me. I've been learning with friendships, even the deep ones, where you care about the person immensely, it is still hard and risky. I believe that a true friendship can and will outlast the hard times.

I've got a cool example. Over the last year God healed a friendship that had fallen off the deep end while I was in college. Redeeming the friendship took work on both our parts. Metal can't be forged into the artist's desired shape without the artist spending time heating the metal, pouring the metal, and letting the metal cool. Friendships also require a process of time, effort, and patience. Through that process the friendship was reformed and in turn I was changed. Now I feel like God is forging me anew by the use of friendships and the work they take.

Work. A word that needs underlining when it comes to friendship. Every morning at work I focus on my job just like the artist or metalworker focuses on the metal. Now I can put in a ton of effort to make sure my students enjoy PE or creative writing, but if they don't match my effort the class struggles. Like when I tried to teach Volleyball to the elementary kids. They didn't want to play because the ball hurt their hands. They didn't cooperate at all, which made their thirty minutes of PE a bore. Friendships are the same. If both people in the friendship don't put forth the same effort, the friendship will be strained. Friendships require a give and take. If you don't give a little to your friend and don't receive in return, it's not a friendship.

I'm not the only one that thinks this. I asked a few of my students what they thought it meant to be a friend and here is what a few of them said:

"To me it means a relationship with a person that doesn't involve love (eros). You trust them deeply, talk about anything, and you have many things in common that you practically talk about anything."

"Friendship means to me loyalty and being nice friends. Hanging out. Having to go to places. But the most important part is caring for each other. Friends should be there for each other in good situations and bad situations."

"Friends care for you and they help you. We have fun together, sometimes we bother each other. Friends are one of the best things you have in the world."

"Friendship means to be there when a friend needs help or comfort."

"Friends like you for who you are."

"Always be there fore each other."

"Friendship means to always be there for each other to talk about stupid things."

"They are something very special to me because without friends we would be lonely. Friends are like your treasure box because you'll find things that you have in common or difference, you could also tell them secrets and they'll never say anything. Friends are cool, and they are always there for you whenever you need them or whenever you don't."

My students seem to know that friendships take being there for each other. I believe that when you care about someone and they care about you, you will meet each other half way. The only problem is this hardly happens with human friendships. As a friend, I can be selfish and when times get hard, even I can back out on the people I call friends. We humans don't try to meet each other half way. If friends are truly our treasures, then often we are fools gold. We guard our selves so we don't get hurt.

That is why the only true friend is Christ. He knew we couldn't meet him half way and so he went the entire way. He loved us despite our shortcomings. That's a true friendship. But, I believe what God is forging in me is the desire to be Christ-like with my friends. Even if a friend doesn't meet me half way, I feel like he is calling me to take that extra step. This is difficult, but if Christ could go to the cross after all the junk we humans did to him, then maybe I can make this one small step. Love with a Christ-like love.

Quinceañera

"I've gotta feeling that tonight's gonna be a good night, that tonight's gonna be a good night, that tonight's gonna be a good, good night."

No I'm not a fan of the Black Eyed Peas, but tonight's gonna be a good, good night. At least I hope. Tonight I'm going to a Quince, short for Quinceañera, which is Spanish for a girls coming of age party at 15. Oh to be a 15 year old girl again, um just kidding. I don't think I had a party when I turned 15, which might be because I'm a guy. For my 15th I went fly fishing with my dad in Oklahoma. The best part of the trip was tying minuscule flies with my dad, complaining about my icicle fingers, and still loving it. My best friend Philip came along and we used the tent stake bag for a hat. Philip and I spent more time throwing rocks than line, which might be why we didn't have fish to eat that night. That was a special birthday for me and yet it doesn't compare to the Quincaeñera.

While I've been to plenty regular birthday parties, and become rather famous for my dance moves, I do a wicked sprinkler that I morph into an up and down jabbing fist pump, It's wild; I've never been to a Quince. But the kids told me to expect a good meal and then to bust a move or two on the dance floor. I can't leave these parties without a little dancing. The kids request my moves, it's sad but true. The party will be held at Bonifaz, which I have been in once and is a beautiful hotel located near downtown Xela, and will probably last all night or until 4 in the morning to be exact. I think the Latin culture may know how to celebrate life.

For the party Bonifaz, a beautiful white hotel in central park across from my apartment, was

decorated immaculately. Purple balloons hung from the ceiling like big grapes and each table was decorated with candy and flowers. A great mass of people filled the hall, 300 of which were invited and the rest were colados, Guatemalan slang for party crashers. The party started at 7:00, but according to local custom you don't show up until an hour later. So like any good ethnographer I didn't roll into the party until 8:00, which was hard because I'm punctual. But as it turned out 8:00 was right on time. As I took my seat in the crowded banquet hall, Ale, the 15-year-old host of the party, hand in hand with her dad, danced out onto the dance floor. The dance was beautiful and I'm sure she will remember it for the rest of her life.

I could have celebrated my 15th birthday MTV style, but that's typically for girls and no real people celebrate like that. The show Sweet Sixteen is just ridiculous and I'm glad I went fishing. No real people celebrate a birthday that way. Or do they? The Quince comes close. But I think the only true comparison to a Quince in the states is a wedding reception. Now at 15 I wasn't getting married, so there wasn't anyway I was going to have a huge dance party. Heck, at that age I could barely move my feet to the beat; not much has changed.

Now, when I turned 18 I flew to Tulsa to hang out with friends. This was a great way to celebrate becoming an adult, but still not as big as the Quince. Maybe guys just don't place much importance on their birthdays. Maybe it's a gender thing because girls, even in the states, do love to be treated like princesses for a day. But as I look back at my sisters' celebrations, and their friend's celebrations, they didn't celebrate the Latin way. Turning 15 might not mean that much in the states. Really only turning 16 because you can drive, 18 because you can vote, and 21 because you can drink mean anything in the states. Yet, these don't compare to turning 15 down here where it means womanhood. I remember watching a movie in my Spanish class about a Hispanic girl turning 15 and working so hard so she could have a party. It meant everything to her. While, my students aren't in the same economic condition as the heroin in the movie the party still means a lot to them. They practice for days for their dance. They skip school to go dress shopping. And then they invite hundreds of people to come party in their honor. Even weddings are different than this. Weddings are the celebration of two people becoming one, but I think Quinces are just celebrations of life. So, I hope you all are invited to a Quince someday and can celebrate life the way it should be celebrated.

Indepencia y Rio Dulce

Independence in Guatemala is a couple week long celebration. Last year I blogged about my trip to the fair and the grito that was celebrated Independence eve. This year I made it back to the fair twice, but instead of staying in Xela for Independence weekend I treked all the way to Rio Dulce, which is located close to the Caribbean. Both the fair and Rio Dulce were amazing and I figured I would share a few of my pictures with you all. I hope you enjoy. The first video I'm posting is of a ride that I tried to describe in last year's blog. It's nothing but insanity. I didn't ride it this year. After a week of stalling on the blog so I could make the video work,sadly it will not post. I will continue to work on the videos so you all will need to keep checking this blog. Trust me this ride is sick. So you know what you are missing from the video just picture a spinning wheel of death, no seat belts, and violent tremors. Okay, now for the pictures. The above is a shot of the Ferris Wheel of death that Guatemalan's love to ride while they're at the fair. It's powered by an old tractor and a foot pedal. Okay, you get the picture, now here are some my photo's from Rio Dulce and the Fair. It was a great time and I hope you enjoy the photos.